


Emotional

by QueenKatelynTheAristocrat



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Adorable, Declarations Of Love, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, relationship drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenKatelynTheAristocrat/pseuds/QueenKatelynTheAristocrat
Summary: "Every single time he was left feeling empty, and Gee or Frank had to pick up the pieces of some girl, some guy who kept calling, asking, “Can I just talk to Mikey for a second? Please?”No. No they couldn’t.And Mikey kind of hated himself."Also known as: Mikey Way discovers that love can be found in unexpected places. And that maybe he's not as broken as he thought.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Mikey Way, past Mikey Way/Pete Wentz - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Emotional

Mikey Way had always felt like something was wrong with him. As a child, he didn’t understand that he was different from everyone else, but reflecting back as an adult, he had to admit it had started way back then. 

He supposed that  _ start _ wasn’t really the right word for it. It wasn’t like one day he was normal and the next he was not. He’d always been this way. The defect was just part of who he  _ was,  _ not caused by trauma or abuse or anything like that. 

It had just taken him -- and others -- a while to realize the problem was there at all. 

He wasn’t sure when Gerard or his mom had noticed -- or if they even had, for that matter -- but he could pinpoint his own personal realization of his emotional failure to the day. Nearly to the hour, even. 

The thing was, on the day of his and Gerard’s grandmother’s death, Mikey hadn’t cried at all. 

Sure, he’d been  _ sad:  _ Elena had meant just as much to him as she had to Gerard. But when their mother told them the news of her death, tears already flooding her eyes, and Gerard had dropped to the floor sobbing in the kitchen -- the crash as the coffee mug he had been holding shattered on the ground ringing in the suddenly airless room -- Mikey had just stood there. 

He’d stood there and waited, bracing himself for impact, for the wave of tears to hit him just as it had hit his brother, but it never came. He just looked down at the puddle of coffee spreading across the kitchen floor, then back up at his mother’s face, and what he saw in her eyes was world shattering. 

Mikey Way had thought he knew sadness. He thought he knew pain. He thought he knew misery. He was wrong. 

The sound of Gerard sobbing broke him free from his internal paralysis, and Mikey dropped to the floor immediately and drew his brother into his arms. 

Mikey had always kind of felt like the older brother. Especially at times like these. 

The whole thing probably only took less than a minute. But it was enough. It wasn’t until later that night, after Gerard had already drank himself senseless and Mikey had to stop him from breaking things and wrestle him down to his bed, that Mikey lay beside his brother, absently petting Gerard’s hair as he sobbed, and came to the strangest and most terrifying of revelations: Mikey Way did not have emotions the same way other people did. He was defective. Broken. 

And he had always been that way. Eventually Gerard fell asleep, but still, hours later, Mikey lay there wide awake, stone-cold sober and dry-eyed even then, and thought about how suddenly everything about him made perfect sense. 

After all, Mikey had been chasing emotion his entire life. 

Ever since he’d been old enough to press the buttons, he’d been glued to his mp3 player. He’d listened to angry guitars and soft pianos, declarations of love and expressions of sorrow, he’d put in his headphones, turned the volume almost all the way up and closed his eyes, and willed himself to  _ feel  _ like the people he listened to  _ felt.  _ Sometimes he tried so hard he gave himself a headache. 

He even had a playlist of songs that actually made him  _ feel  _ something for once. Whenever he was feeling particularly empty, particularly devoid of humanity or removed from reality, he would play those songs on repeat, as loud as he could stand, and hope one of them could get through to him. 

He didn’t know how to experience things like anger and sadness without a song to provoke them. 

He thought it was pretty fucked up that a song written by someone else could make Mikey cry, but his grandmother’s death couldn’t do the same. 

It was almost like the real world didn’t have a concentrated enough form of emotion for Mikey’s brain to register it. Or maybe he needed someone else to interpret it first so that he could understand it. Maybe that was the part of his brain that was broken: he could understand anger when someone else expressed it but he couldn't turn events into anger on his own. He needed someone else to write a fucking song about it before it could even get into his system. 

That’s how he was with their own songs as well. No matter how much Gerard explained a concept to him, or Ray tried to explain the emotion he was trying to transform into sound, Mikey could never get the hang of it. 

Sure, he wrote his own parts. But that was only after someone else had  _ started  _ the song for him. Once part of the song was there, it was like something inside him clicked, and suddenly -- if the song was meant to be a good one, at least -- he felt it. The emotion Gerard or Ray or Frank had been trying to explain before they started writing. It was  _ there.  _ And now he could contribute to the process. 

That was why he loved making music so much, despite his stage fright and his depression and whatever the fuck else that everyone told him meant he couldn’t be a rock star. 

Fuck what everyone else said. Mikey hadn’t even cried at his grandmother’s  _ funeral,  _ but he’d sobbed like a baby when they had played  _ Helena  _ all the way through for the first time. 

If music was the only emotion he could get, he would take as much as humanly possible, thank you very much. 

But Mikey had to admit that although it really fucking sucked that he couldn’t feel anger or grief or sorrow the same as anyone else, that wasn’t even the worst of it. 

The worst was that Mikey was pretty sure he’d never felt  _ love  _ either. 

Of course he cared about Gerard and their mother. He loved them, as much as he could, and in his own way. They were his family. And his bandmates. They were everything to him. He’d jump in front of a train for any one of them any day of the week, not that he expected to do so anytime soon, by the way. But if he had to, he  _ would.  _

The problem wasn’t that he was faking the affection he felt for the people in his life, because he wasn’t. If someone hurt Gee, Mikey would end them. Same went for anyone else he cared about. And if they were in need of comfort, Mikey would be the first to provide it. He wasn’t a fucking sociopath. 

At least he didn’t think so. 

The problem was that he was pretty sure that what he felt wasn’t anywhere  _ near  _ what everyone else felt. Not even  _ close.  _

Mikey’s love was perfectly sincere, it just wasn’t strong enough. 

That was why Mikey had never been  _ in love  _ either. He’d heard love songs that moved him far more than the look in any real person’s eyes as they said, “I think I’m falling for you, Mikey.” or even “I’m in love with you. I could never be in love with anyone else.” 

He was ashamed to admit he’d heard both, and he’d felt nothing in return. 

Well, not  _ nothing.  _ But certainly not the same thing he’d seen shining in their eyes. Radiating off their skin in waves. 

He’d cared deeply about a few of them, but he’d never been  _ in love  _ with them.

And yet, he kept fucking people, hoping that each of them would be the one to break through whatever strange barrier he kept around his heart, to fix whatever weird broken connection existed between his heart and his brain. 

Gerard thought it was unhealthy. He was probably right. But Mikey couldn’t stop doing it, and he didn’t have the willpower to try to force himself to. 

And who was Gerard to talk? He had vices of his own, demons of his own to chase. 

And so Mikey went along, fucking people once and then leaving them, or fucking them multiple times and trying to force himself to fall in love with them with disasterous results. 

Every single time he was left feeling empty, and Gee or Frank had to pick up the pieces of some girl, some guy who kept calling, asking, “Can I just talk to Mikey for a second? Please?” 

No. No they couldn’t. 

And Mikey kind of hated himself. 

Or, at least, he would have, if he wasn’t also pretty sure that his hate was weaker than everyone else’s as well. 

When he met Pete Wentz, Mikey had told himself this one would be different. He had really liked Pete, connected with him. He’d slept with him more than ten times without getting bored. He’d been introduced to Pete’s friends and brought Pete to dinner with Gee and Frankie and Ray and Bob. They hadn’t exactly gotten along perfectly, but it had gone alright. 

Things were going well. So well that Mikey spent a few minutes every night looking himself in the eye in the mirror and telling himself not to fuck this one up. 

“You will fall in love with him, Mikey Way. You  _ will.”  _

But he didn’t. 

The problem was that he’d thought he still had  _ time.  _ It had only been a few months. Three months, in fact. It was on their anniversary, and they’d gotten a hotel room, and they’d gone to dinner before that, and the whole thing was perfect, and they had the best sex Mikey thought he’d  _ ever had.  _ And Pete had said, “I love you, Mikeyway.” 

And Mikey had frozen. “I…” 

Pete had waited for him to speak, and when he didn’t, he’d just smiled indulgently and said, “It’s ok if you can’t say it yet. We still have time. I understand.” 

Mikey had kissed him once, then said, “Thank you.” 

And hidden his face in Pete’s neck so he wouldn’t see what Mikey was so afraid would show in his eyes. It wasn’t that he was afraid to say it, that he wanted to but just couldn’t yet. Mikey was not scared of commitment. Commitment was great. 

He just didn’t fucking  _ feel  _ it. 

What he felt was sadness, and a distant sense of dread. He hadn’t realized how quickly normal people fell in love. He thought he had a few more months before they even got to this part. 

But here he was, and he  _ cared  _ about Pete so much, but he wasn’t  _ in love  _ with him and he knew it would all end in flames. 

And Pete was so  _ happy  _ and  _ understanding,  _ and eventually he would hate Mikey so much, and Mikey would hate  _ himself  _ so much, but not as much as Pete would, because Mikey wasn’t even fucking  _ capable  _ of that kind of hatred.

Mikey considered breaking up with him right then and there. 

A second later he was horrified with himself: that would only hurt Pete worse. 

Or so he’d thought at the time. 

But now, nearly a year later, after the whole thing had imploded just as he thought it would, he wasn’t exactly sure that was true. 

For a while, Pete had been ok with Mikey’s inability to say “I love you.” He’d been understanding. Kind. Gentle. 

But then he’d slowly become impatient. Annoyed. Angry. 

And Mikey didn’t blame him one fucking bit. When you tell someone you love them, you deserve to hear the same back. You deserve for them to  _ feel  _ the same back. 

And Mikey just. Fucking. Didn’t. 

What kind of monster was he? 

It was Frank who found him sobbing on the bus. 

Everyone had gone off in different directions after the show. Mikey wasn’t sure where everyone else had gone. All he knew was that he and Pete had gone to a hotel room and ordered room service, and Mikey had been content for the first time in a long time when Pete had to go and ruin it. 

Pete had proposed to him. Fucking  _ proposed.  _

And Mikey had said no. 

Needless to say, Pete had not expected that at all. 

Apparently, Pete had spent this entire time operating under the illusion that Mikey was “just one of those guys” who had some weird thing about saying the words “I love you,” but felt it even though they couldn’t say it. 

Mikey had said he was pretty sure those guys only existed in movies. 

That had been the wrong thing to say. 

Long story short, they had broken up. And now Mikey was sobbing in his bunk, but not because he was sad over the break up like a fucking normal person. But because he had done it  _ again.  _

Not to sound like a fucking Britney Spears song, but he’d broken another person’s heart, dragged them along like a puppy on a leash, and then ended up unable to give them what he’d promised. 

He’d told himself he wasn’t going to do this anymore. He was supposed to fall in love with him. If he’d felt it even a little bit -- maybe a little was all Mikey was capable of -- he would have said yes, but he  _ didn’t.  _

And this was  _ Pete,  _ and Mikey fucking  _ cared  _ about him, but he wasn’t fucking in love with him, and Mikey was such a monster. He was never sleeping with anyone again. 

Alright that wasn’t true, but  _ still.  _

And that was where Frank had found him. 

Mikey wasn’t even aware anyone was back until he heard the sound of someone gently pushing aside the curtains of his bunk. But once he heard that, Mikey turned around mechanically and found himself meeting Frank’s shocked eyes, and all he could think to say was, “You’re back.” 

Frank just nodded and said, “Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d be, Mikes what  _ happened?” _

Mikey opened his mouth to try to explain but he didn’t know where to start, so he ended up saying nothing and just sobbing again. 

Mikey was about to hide his face from view when Frank said, “Is someone hurt? Gerard? Your mom?” 

Oh God. Mikey shook his head and said, “Nothing like that. Don’t worry.” 

Frank was silent for a second, then he said, “Mikey.” 

Mikey looked up at him instinctively and met his eyes, and once he did, he couldn’t look away. 

Frank stared into his eyes like he was searching for something, and he must have found it because he said, “Fucking  _ Hell _ , Mikes.” 

Mikey just nodded, because, yeah. Fucking Hell. 

There was silence for a second, then Frank said, “Alright, scoot over.” 

Mikey didn’t say anything, just moved closer to the edge of his bunk and allowed Frank to climb over him and wedge himself between the wall and Mikey’s body, and once Frank was settled, Mikey rolled himself into Frank’s arms, and hid his face in his chest. 

Frank was silent for a second, just pet Mikey’s hair, but Mikey could practically sense him thinking. 

“So it’s not Gerard.” Frank said, eventually. 

Mikey shook his head. 

“And it’s not your mother.” 

Another shake. 

“And it’s not me.” This one was more of a question. 

Another shake. 

“And I don’t think it’s Ray or Bob, cause I just saw them a minute ago, and they can’t have made you this upset in that amount of time.” Frank said. 

A shake. 

“Then.” Frank said, then hesitated like he was afraid to broach the subject. He took a deep breath. “Then, it must be Pete.” 

No shake was forthcoming. 

Frank waited a second, then said, “Am I right?” 

Mikey nodded his head. 

Frank sighed like that was what he was expecting. 

“What happened, Mikes?” 

The question was soft. Not a demand for answers, but genuine concern. But still, Mikey shook his head again. 

Frank didn’t say anything else, just waited. 

Eventually, Mikey said, “It’s really bad, Frankie.” 

Frank squeezed him tighter for a second, then said, “It can’t possibly be so bad that you can’t tell me. If you want to.” 

God, Frank thought Pete had done something to hurt  _ Mikey.  _ If only he knew how wrong he was. 

“You don’t  _ understand.”  _ Mikey said, nearly sobbing again. 

“Then help me to.” Frank said, quietly. 

Mikey shook his head more vehemently than ever, and said, “If I tell you, you’ll think I’m a bad person.” 

“I could never think that, Mikey.” 

Mikey made a noise of frustration, even though the only person he should be frustrated with was himself. “You don’t understand. It’s not something Pete did to me, it’s something I did to  _ him.”  _

Mikey tensed up for Frank’s reaction, but it didn’t come. Frank just kept petting Mikey’s hair and holding him close. He didn’t push him away, he didn’t freeze up. 

Eventually he just said, as gentle as Mikey had ever heard his voice, “I thought it might be.” 

_ Mikey  _ was the one to tense up at that. He pulled back to look Frank in the eyes. “What?” he said, although he wasn’t entirely sure he inflected it like a question. 

Frank rushed to explain, “No no no, it’s not that I think you would hurt him on  _ purpose. _ ” 

Mikey raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re not a bad person, Mikey.” 

“But I  _ am,  _ though.” Mikey said, and collapsed back into him, hiding his face again. 

Frank was quiet for a second, still but not tense, and Mikey thought maybe he’d finally managed to convince him of his inherent evilness, when Frank said, “Just because you’re not in love with him doesn’t make you evil, Mikes.” 

Mikey was surprised. He thought no one could tell. “How did you know?” 

Frank kind of laughed a little. “I wasn’t completely sure. It’s just… you don’t look at him like you look at things you love, you know?” 

Mikey did not. He was still trying to parse that one out when Frank said, “But that still doesn’t tell me what  _ happened.”  _

Mikey thought about it. Since Frank already knew that Mikey didn’t love Pete, maybe there was a chance he’d understand. Mikey took that chance. “He proposed to me.” 

“ _ Fuck.”  _ Frank said, and wrapped Mikey back up in his arms. 

For a moment there was only the sound of Mikey crying in earnest again, but then Frank tensed up like he’d just come to a realization. “Wait, Mikes, please tell me you said no.” 

He sounded scared. Mikey wasn’t sure why. “I said no.” Mikey confirmed, and Frank exhaled in relief and pulled him in tighter again. 

“But…” Mikey began, and Frank went quiet like he was waiting, “Wouldn’t you… wouldn’t you want me to say yes?” 

“Oh God, no.” Frank said, vehemently. 

Mikey was confused. 

“We just said that you’re not in love with him, Mikey. Why would I want you to marry him?” Frank asked, voice rising a little for the first time all night. 

Mikey was still confused. “Because. Because he’s in love with  _ me.  _ And… maybe that’s the best I’ll ever get.” 

Frank pulled back just enough to scoot himself down so they were eye level. “Mikeyway, don’t you ever say anything like that ever again. You don’t have to settle for someone you’re not in love with just because  _ they’re  _ in love with  _ you.”  _

The eye contact was intense so close together. Mikey could tell Frank meant every word he said. It sent a jolt of something from Mikey’s chest down to his stomach. Mikey was suddenly overwhelmed and tempted to turn away. Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been this close to Frank  _ before _ . 

It became so much that Mikey tried to make himself look away. But when he tried, he found he couldn’t do it. Frank was doing nothing to force Mikey to stay in that exact position, yet he couldn’t seem to make himself move. 

“Are we clear?” Frank said after a second, gentler. 

Mikey suddenly remembered what they were talking about. “But what if… what if I’m not able to feel that.” 

Frank scrunched his eyebrows together, searching Mikey’s expression. He must have found something because a moment later he looked so sad. 

That. That right there. That was what Mikey wasn’t able to feel. 

Mikey found himself scanning Frank’s eyes to get more of it. 

“Mikeyway, of course you’re capable of falling in love.” Frank said, and Mikey could hear the sorrow. He could almost feel it himself. 

Mikey was shaking his head before Frank could even finish speaking. “But I’m not. I’m  _ not.”  _ he said, more forcefully when Frank opened his mouth to argue. 

“I don’t feel things like everyone else does.” Mikey admitted, then closed his eyes, because he’d never admitted that to anyone else before, even Gee. 

A pause. Then, “Mikey, look at me.” ‘

Mikey did. 

“Why do you think that?” Frank asked, and he looked like he wanted to understand. So Mikey tried to explain. 

“I don’t cry like Gee does when bad things happen. I never have. And I don’t get angry when people do bad things. And I care about people I’m supposed to love, but I don’t think I love them  _ enough _ .” Mikey said, but he didn’t think he was explaining properly. 

“I mean, when you or Gee or someone else is sad, I see it in their  _ eyes.  _ I can practically see it coming off of them. But I don’t feel things like that. I’m broken.” Mikey finished, then waited to see if Frank understood. 

“Mikey, Gerard is the most expressive person I’ve ever  _ met.”  _ Frank said. 

Oh, so he didn’t understand. Mikey shook his head. “I mean, yeah, he is, but that’s not what I mean. It’s not that I just don’t show my emotions, it’s that they’re not  _ strong  _ enough.” 

“Are you sure?” Frank asked. 

“Yes. You’re saying the whole, ‘Oh yeah, Mikey Way is just really good at hiding his feelings, so stoic, so manly, etcetera etcetera.’ It’s not true. That’s what Pete thought, too, and look where that left him.” Mikey said. 

“Is that why you think this? Because you’re not in love with Pete Wentz?” Frank asked, failing to hide the incredulity in his voice. 

“It’s not just that. I didn’t cry at my grandmother’s funeral, Frank.” Mikey admitted, even though that was hardly a secret. 

Frank shrugged as much as he could laying down. “Not everyone cries at funerals.” 

“I  _ never  _ cry about sad stuff.” Mikey argued. 

“You’re crying right now.” Frank countered. 

“Ugh, that’s just because I’m wallowing in self-pity because I’m a  _ bad person.”  _ Mikey tried to explain. 

“You’re not.” Frank said, automatic. 

“Now we’re just going in circles.” Mikey said, displaying the self-pity he had just claimed. 

Frank hummed in agreement. He went back to petting Mikey’s hair for a minute, and Mikey had to admit it was pretty calming. Mikey only then realized that his heart had been racing from staring into Frank’s eyes for so long. Weird. 

“You want to know what I think?” Frank asked. 

Mikey didn’t answer, which Frank took as an enthusiastic yes. 

“I  _ don’t  _ think the whole ‘Mikey Way is such a badass who hides all his emotions  _ skillfully _ like a  _ trained spy _ ’ thing that everyone talks about. I mean, you are a badass. But that’s not why.” Frank said. 

Mikey surprised himself by laughing a bit. 

“I think Mikeyway  _ does _ show his emotions. Just a bit differently than everyone else does.” Frank continued. 

“It’s not about whether I  _ show  _ them. It’s about whether I  _ have  _ them.” Mikey felt the need to point out. 

“Well, since you’re not a sociopath, how could you show them if you didn’t have them?” Frank asked. 

“You so sure I’m not?” Mikey asked, and he was only sort of kidding. 

Unfortunately, Frank realized the “sort of” part. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t be upset if Gee died in a car accident on the way back here tonight?” 

“Of course I would, don’t be ridiculous!” Mikey answered, defensively. 

“Yeah, then you’re not a sociopath.” Frank said. 

“I’m not sure that’s right.” Mikey stated. 

Frank just shrugged. "I think it is. But it doesn’t matter. Because if you didn’t have emotions, you wouldn’t be able to write music.” 

Mikey made another noise of frustration. What, did Frank think he hadn’t thought of these things himself? “I  _ don’t  _ write music. You guys write music and I contribute to it.” 

“That’s just ridiculous, now. Just because you never start songs doesn’t mean you don’t write music. And even if you didn’t write it -- which you  _ do,  _ Mikes -- it doesn’t matter, cause I’ve seen you sob or yell or scream over music a million times. That’s real emotion, right there.” Frank said. 

Mikey shook his head. “But that’s the only time I feel anything that strongly.” 

“You don’t think we all have heightened emotional responses to music? That’s why all of us are  _ here,  _ Mikes.” 

“But Gee has always --”

“Gerard has always shown his emotions very clearly in a very expected way.” Frank argued. 

“ _ God,  _ Frank, why do you care so much?” Mikey almost yelled. 

Frank was quiet for a moment, and Mikey was about to apologize -- fuck, he really was a bad person -- when Frank finally spoke up. “You said you can tell that other people have emotions because you see it in their eyes, right?” 

Mikey was stunned silent for a moment. Frank sounded more vulnerable than he ever had before, but also so incredibly focused. It made Mikey feel something he didn’t know how to identify. 

But Frank was still waiting for a response, so Mikey said, “Yes.” 

Frank nodded as if steeling himself for something. Then he said, “Then I match you with something you can’t argue against, Mikey Way. I know you have emotions just as strong as anyone else, because I can see it in  _ your  _ eyes. And this isn’t Pete fucking Wentz deluding himself into thinking you’re hiding love for him that you just refuse to show like some sort of sexy vampire movie, this is someone who’s known you for a very long time.” 

Mikey was stunned silent and still, and he could only watch as Frank raised a hand to Mikey’s face and rubbed his thumb over Mikey’s eyebrow. 

“Anger, sadness, love, all of it. It’s all in there, because I’ve  _ seen  _ it. Just because you don’t show it like everyone else expects you to doesn’t mean you don’t show it at all.” Frank said, like he was giving away a secret, and all the sudden Mikey understood. 

He understood so much all at once that he almost didn’t remember how to breathe. 

“So please don’t let the fact that you can’t force yourself to fall in love with Pete Wentz convince you that you’re broken.” Frank finished. 

Before his mind could even catch up to what he was doing, Mikey was kissing him. He was kissing him with everything he had, and it was such a fucking cliche but he was suddenly feeling something he’d never felt before in his life, and  _ Oh my God,  _ this was what he’d been missing all this time. 

It was completely overwhelming. Mikey pulled back. He was pretty sure he was about to start hyperventilating. 

Frank grabbed him around the waist like he was afraid of Mikey rolling right out of his bunk and onto the floor. “Mikey?” he asked, carefully. 

“I’m not in love with Pete Wentz.” Mikey said.

“Clearly not.” Frank said, trying not to sound amused. 

“And I’m not in love with all the other people. The… you know. The others.” 

“Yeah, I know, Mikes.” Frank said. 

Mikey wasn’t sure he was making sense, but if Frank got it that’s all that mattered. 

“And it’s because…” Mikey wasn’t sure he could say it. 

He really thought it was true though. No. He  _ felt  _ the truth of it. He felt it somewhere he couldn’t identify. No, not his dick. He could identify  _ that  _ perfectly well, thank you very much. 

And it was interested. But he’d think about that later. 

“Because?” Frank asked, like he already knew the answer. Like he’d known the answer for years and was just waiting for Mikey to realize it, the smug bastard. 

Mikey couldn’t answer. Frank pulled him back close to his body, carefully, like he really was afraid of Mikey throwing himself bodily away from this realization. 

“Mikey?” 

“Because I’m in love with  _ you.”  _ Mikey said, breathing fast and amazed he’d managed to say it out loud. “I thought what I felt for you was the same as what I felt for Gee, but it’s really  _ really not,  _ and I can’t believe I didn’t notice this sooner, I am such a --” 

And then Frank was kissing him again. When he finally pulled away, he said, “Can you please stop insulting yourself today?” 

Mikey just nodded, because whatever you  _ say, _ Frankie, Oh my  _ God.  _

It was only after they’d both achieved amazingly spectacular orgasms -- ha, he thought Pete was the best fuck of his life,  _ please  _ \-- that Mikey realized something. 

“Wait --” he said, but before he could even ask, Frank was cutting him off. 

“Yes, I’m in love with you too, Mikeyway.” Frank said. 

And even though it was new, Mikey completely believed him. He  _ felt  _ it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments make my day! <3


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